


Pin Up

by applejuice_motherfucker



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Masturbation, Other, cross dressing, implied!Dirk/Jake, solo!Dirk, what even
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 16:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applejuice_motherfucker/pseuds/applejuice_motherfucker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's oblivious and you fucking love it</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pin Up

**Author's Note:**

> Run of the mill story - Dirk masturbates dressed up as a Japanese school girl while he thinks about his best friend/possible lover.
> 
> For the record I'm sorry.

The fabric kissing your shoulders is rougher than it looks. It's years old, worn from washing and sweat. You've already given up on trying to figure out why your brother left this behind, whether it was for you, or a mistake, or if he didn't even care about it and forgot. It's a strange thing to have, but then again things were never exactly normal around here so you don't question it too much.

You hook a finger in the hem of one thigh high, tugging it up a little more. Your hand breezes over the pleats of your skirt, flicking them upwards teasingly and you stare in the mirror, taking yourself in. Your legs look amazing; the skirt is so short it doesn't even cover the whole of your ass, cutting off just above the curve where cheek meets thigh. Your socks cling tight to you, pressing into your skin, pure white cotton extending to the floor. The sleeves of your cardigan are still too long though, and they hang across your knuckles, your little neckerchief tied neatly and resting prim against your breast bone.

"Fuck..." you murmur, biting your lip as you drink yourself in, door locked, one arm holding you up against the wall beside the floor length mirror. You don't touch yourself, not yet, instead pressing your free hand to your mouth, licking between your fingers as you start to think about how fucking dirty you are. Your tiny little skirt that doesn't even cover you up properly; the slightest breeze could expose you completely. Your eyes roam over your legs, over the edges of your socks, the small expanse of thigh visible between them and the hem of your skirt. You look like such a little whore, its delicious. What would Jake say if he were to see you like this? You hold back a groan, but let out a smirk at that thought.

The amount of times you've chatted with him in this outfit is ridiculous. Playing a silly little sex game with yourself, it's just stupid, you know that, but you can't stop. He's oblivious and you fucking love it. You sit and writhe in your chair as he tells you inane factoids about his island and his day, fingers furious and demanding inside yourself, skirt flipped up, panties hanging dejected around one ankle. Fuck, you do groan now, chewing your lip as your eyes threaten to flutter closed, imagining what he'd do if he caught you like this. If he'd pin you down on the floor and fuck you through it, your pretty little skirt flapping helplessly between your bodies, your socks ripped and dirty, toes scrabbling against them for purchase on the smooth wood of the floorboards. Maybe he'd talk to you, tell you how cute you look, that you're so good to dress up for him like this.

You're fully hard now, skirt practically pointless as it's lifted even shorter around your cock. Look at yourself, you're a fucking mess already and you've barely even started. Your cheeks are flushed and your mouth wet around the fingers you're sucking on. Glancing yourself over again you begin to move back, watching your reflection retreat until you see and feel the edge of your bed bumping the backs of your knees. You lower yourself down, spreading your legs open, seeing your balls exposed between your thighs. You didn't bother with the panties this time, there's no point in pretending you're anything but a slut right now.

You lift the edge of your little skirt with your thumb and forefinger, your cock hot and heavy against your thigh, wetting the skin, dribbling down to soak into the edge of your sock and  _fuck_  if that's not fucking hot.

Your fingers brush along the heated skin, dancing into the small stream of pre-cum at the tip, stroking firmer as you get a better grip. You picture his lips wrapped around you, hands pushing your thighs wider apart, fingers curling, catching and tugging on your socks, his vivid green eyes staring right into you. You moan again, head falling back, eyes shutting for just a second before looking right back at yourself in the mirror across the room. Your sleeve brushes the skin of your inner thigh with each stroke.

"Ugh...fuck..." you groan, your hand squeezing tighter around the base of your cock before falling to pull gently on your balls for a moment. Jake would do something like that; he'd suck them into his mouth, stroke them harshly with his tongue, watching your face as you'd whine and squirm closer into him. You bring your other hand back to your mouth, lips sucking your fingers, your back arched straight, legs wide open.

You switch up, shifting to kneel on your bed, bent forward, your skirt barely reaching the middle of your ass, cock hanging heavy between your legs, your thigh highs digging into your skin. You take a look at yourself in the mirror, flushed and sweating, shaking as you reach back and brush two wet fingers against your hole, not even needing to pull your skirt out of the way. You press your hips back against your hand, picturing his tongue in their place, and you moan as they enter, saliva barely masking the friction as they sink in. He'd lick you until you were completely wet for him, opening for him without meaning to, and he'd wriggle his tongue inside, fucking you with shallow, swiping strokes, your fingers pressing harder and harder with each turn. He'd grip your ass, hold you open, tug your skirt away with his teeth, growl as you choke and mumble small pleading promises into the sheets. What a dirty little boy you are, he'd say as he smacked your ass, such a pretty little whore, and shove his tongue back inside you. You feel your eyes cross, your fingers convulsing in you, and you lean down even further, resting your weight on your chest and shoulders, your other hand gripping your cock tight, skirt brushing against your sleeve as you rub yourself feverishly hard, the fingers in your ass twisting and working deeper, stretching apart viciously, holding yourself open.

You want him there. Want him to see you like this, desperate and moaning beneath him. You want his tongue all over you, his hands to grip you hard like he owns you. You want to want to make him happy, to please him. You want to hear the things he'd whisper to you as he ate you out, sucked you in, held you down and claimed you like you were nothing but a conquest. 

When you glance up at the mirror again you're lost. You're utterly gone, thighs quaking, your mouth wet and drooling, panting sweet curses into the heavy air around you. The fingers in your ass stutter, rubbing against your prostate as if to punish it, stroking in small harsh circles. The hand on your cock squeezes again, pumps three more times, falters as you picture Jake pressing his cock into you, grunting your name, slapping at your ass, holding your skirt up, tugging your socks, pulling on the back of your shirt like a leash.

His name spills from your throat as you come, your voice filling your head as your body empties, your hips curling confusedly back and forth. You grip your cock tight, pumping the fingers inside you slowly as you ride it out, your vision clouding, head misting over, imagining Jake's hand clasping at the back of your neck, holding you down firm like you're not allowed to leave, even if you could.

You gasp for breath, shaking still even as your aftershocks die down, withdrawing the hand from behind you, pressing your cock down against your thigh. You breathe deep and slow into the sheets, wet from saliva, and open your eyes again to see the aftermath in the mirror.

Even if you didn't look like a complete fucking mess you'd still grin. Your skirt hangs limply from your waist, socks stained and elastic loosening around your thighs. Your shirt and cardigan are rumpled and misshapen, the ribbon around your neck tugged undone. You sigh a smile. You fucking love this outfit.

You suspect that Jake will too.


End file.
